Once A Father version II
by Kyros
Summary: This is NOT a sequel to Once A Father, just a different version. *FINISHED*. This is a Severitus' Challenge fic (Snape is Harry's father). No violence or anything like that.
1. Author's Notes

**Author's Notes**

This story is not a sequel to Once A Father. It is basically another version. As I was writing the third chapter, I thought of two different ways to continue, so I wrote them both.

I may eventually continue this story. Not a sequel, just more chapters, because I like how it turned out so far.

**THE USUAL DISCLAIMERS APPLY**


	2. Library at Midnight

It was just past midnight when Harry slipped into the dark and eerily silent library. He had to walk slowly, trying not to make too much noise. He knew that Filch was in a particularly abominable mood than night, having been intercepted by Professor Dumbledore just as he was about to inflict a particularly filthy punishment on an errant First Year.

The Restricted Section was just ahead, and Harry's heartbeat quickened. Maybe this time he would find what he was looking for.

He had no legitimate reason for going into the Restricted Section, which was why he had come into the library under the invisibility cloak.

At least he didn't need a light. Someone had left one of the large windows undraped, and the moon was bright enough to see by.

Several days earlier he had overheard Professor Lupin's conversation with another member of Hogwarts staff. It had disturbed him greatly, so much so that he couldn't even sleep at night. He had lain awake that night, anger and confusion washing over him, until he couldn't stand it another minute.

Lupin was temporarily back at Hogwarts after the sudden disappearance of the new Defense teacher. Harry frowned at the recollection. They'd had a new Defense teacher every year since he came to Hogwarts, but apparently those were no longer even lasting through the first quarter.

Not that Harry was complaining. The new Defense teacher had been horrible. She had shown up with a slew of creatures, most of which were on par with Hagrid's old skrewts. She had assigned more homework than any of their other instructors, and singled out students for reprimand with almost as much malice as Snape.

He had reached the Restricted Section and stepped carefully over the rope that separated it from the rest of the library.

His eyes passed right over the first few shelves. He wasn't looking for hexes . . . not potions . . . and information on banned magical plants wouldn't be much use to him either.

There, he had found it! History of the Ministry of Magic.

Why were these books here? There was an entire section on the subject in the general library. Why put these particular books where very few students could have access to the information contained within their pages?

It had been by chance that Harry had remembered that he had seen the books there the last time he visited the Restricted Section under the cover of night. He hadn't paid any attention to them that time, but this time he seized the first of the books eagerly.

"Mr. Potter," came a chilling, slimy voice from behind him, and the next moment the book was plucked out of his hand at the same time as his cloak was pulled away roughly.

"Well, well, well," Snape continued as Harry turned slowly around to face him. "What have we here?" He turned the book over to read the title. "Did you feel a sudden urge to catch up on your History homework, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gritted his teeth and didn't answer. What awful luck! Of all the people he could have run into, of course it had to be Snape!

"Don't have much to say for yourself?" Snape sneered. "Perhaps you will be more talkative after a good night's sleep," he smiled a most unpleasant smile, knowing that the rest of the night was ruined for Harry. "My office, Mr. Potter, tomorrow before dinner," he smiled again, thinking that he had outdone himself -- now Harry's dinner would be spoiled as well. "Now, if you please, return to Gryffindor dormitory, where you belong."

With Snape's piercing black eyes following him, Harry turned and fled from the library.

He was shaking with fury and indignation. Snape had his cloak! Harry couldn't imagine how he would get it back. Not to mention that he would probably have detention for a week, and that's only if Snape couldn't manage to come up with something more sadistic.

Creeping into his bed, Harry lay awake, anger and disappointment preventing him from closing his eyes.

All he had wanted was to find out the truth!

A few days earlier, he had been delayed in study hall, which is what they had been having instead of Defense, and overheard snatches of conversation coming from an office down the corridor.

He had heard his mother's name. Any thought of consequences or principles immediately vanished from his head. He stopped and listened.

He was amazed to head Lupin's voice, but couldn't figure out whom Lupin was talking to. Lupin was doing nearly all of the talking, his voice getting angrier and louder. When the other person spoke, it was in a voice so soft that Harry couldn't hear any distinguishable words.

So that's how Harry had found out about the accusations against his mother. He had stood there and listened to Lupin's angry voice demand to know whether there was any truth to them. As far as Harry could figure out, a Death Eater had once accused his mother of consorting with Voldemort.

His mother! Harry felt his anger boil over as he thought about it. His mother had died fighting Voldemort -- died to protect Harry! Why was Professor Lupin even considering this absurdity?

He had lain awake in his bed that night just as he did now. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mother's last words repeated inside his head.

The following morning he had been far less surprised than his fellow Gryffindors to find out that Professor Lupin was back at Hogwarts and going to take over the stalled Defense class.

Harry loitered after class that day, but his courage had failed him under Lupin's eager greeting and ready smile. He tried again following dinner, but the words wouldn't come. He remembered how sad Professor Lupin's eyes became every time he was reminded of James and Lily Potter.

The following morning between classes, Harry had gone to the library to see if he could find the information himself. Trials were described in several books, and if any accusations had been made, perhaps they would be there, along with a solid refute.

He had found nothing.

For a moment he had considered asking Hermione for help, after all, who knew research methods better than she? But this was a private matter, one that hurt him bitterly, and he couldn't bring himself to share it with his friends.

Now, after his failed excursion to the Restricted Section, Harry was no closer to the truth. He sighed in frustration.

It couldn't be true. Of course not. But just the thought of his mother being accused of something so terrible would give him no peace until he was satisfied that it was a cruel lie, just a pathetic attempt to stay out of Azkaban.

Snape wouldn't stop him, Harry was determined. What was detention when he was on a mission to find the truth? He would find it, whatever it took.

But as he tossed and turned in his bed, Harry was miserably aware that if Snape had his way, he would have many uncomfortable days ahead of him. 


	3. Potions with Slytherins

The following morning Harry arrived late for breakfast. He had finally fallen asleep, from sheer exhaustion, just as the sun was rising.

Hermione and Ron moved aside to let him sit down between them. They had been looking at that day's schedule.

"Double Potions with Slytherins!" Ron groaned. "It can't be! Didn't we just have that?"

Harry leaned over to see. A quick calculation told him that he would be on his way to Snape's office just as the class ended. Could he endure that much Snape in a single day?

"We have Care of Magical Creatures today also," Hermione reminded them.

Hagrid was still away, and the new instructor preferred that they learn from books rather than practical experience. History of Magic remained the only class that was more dull.

"Ugh," Ron said through a mouthful of pie.

Harry said nothing. If he told them that he would be meeting Snape later that day, they might sympathize, but they would also want to know why. If Hermione found out that he had been to the Restricted Section, there would be no stopping her until she had the whole story.

Fortunately there were many morning announcements, and he had good reason to stay silent.

Morning classes seemed to pass in no time, even Care of Magical Creatures seemed to end far too soon. Before he knew it, Harry was walking into the Potions classroom.

"Out of my way, Potter," Malfoy pushed past Harry, knocking his book bag off his shoulder.

Harry's eyes flashed and a retort sprang to his lips, but he remembered just in time that his predicament was bad enough already. From across the room, Snape was staring right at him, apparently waiting for the chance to take House points. When Harry stayed silent he looked positively aggrieved.

It was a terrible class. Malfoy flicked beetle-eyes at him behind Snape's back. Hermione hissed every few minutes that his potion was too watery. Finally, Harry spilled a saucer full of frog brains as he yawned, and Snape pounced on him.

"Do you find my class monotonous, Mr. Potter?" he demanded. "Or perhaps you feel that you have already mastered this potion?"

Harry looked up at Snape from the floor, where he was trying to gather up the slippery brains. He didn't answer, knowing it didn't make one bit of difference now that Snape had found a target.

"Well?"

"No, Sir," Harry tried to look timid.

"Really? I never would have. . ."

There was an explosion behind him, and Snape whirled around, forgetting Harry for the moment.

"Longbottom!" he roared.

Harry could just see Neville through the thick cloud of smoke rising over his melting cauldron, and Neville looked terrified.

The smoke was the only thing that saved Neville, since Snape hesitated to go straight through it to reach him.

The door opened and Dumbledore looked in.

"Is everything all right, Severus?"

"Everything," Snape said through gritted teeth, "is just fine."

"I'm glad to hear it. May I see you outside for just a moment?" Dumbledore shot a sympathizing look in Neville's direction as he shut the door.

Snape looked around the room, not even sparing the Slytherins his seething glare.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" he managed to spit out, focusing his wrathful eyes on Neville. "And have that mess cleaned up by the time I return!"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron rushed to help Neville, who had sunk into a chair, looking very pale.

They had more than enough time to remove Neville's ruined cauldron and to wipe up the sticky mess that covered his desk.

Snape returned, his lips pulled into a thin line and his eyes betraying the anger he had been forced to suppress.

"Class dismissed," he announced.

No one moved. There was still a quarter of an hour left of class, and Snape had never before let them out early.

"Did you not hear me?" Snape repeated. "Class is dismissed."

He looked around the room at the blank faces.

"Get out!"

They scattered, gathering up their books hastily.

Outside the classroom, Hermione and Ron waited for Harry, who was one of the last to exit. He had hoped that they would go on ahead, making it unnecessary for him to explain why he would be staying down in the dungeons.

"Come on Harry, hurry up," Ron waved him over. "We can get in a decent game of chess before dinner."

"I have to see Snape in his office," Harry grimaced.

"What?" Hermione looked dismayed. "When did that happen?"

"Between classes," Harry lied.

Hermione and Ron both frowned, not recalling when Harry had been alone that morning long enough for Snape to corner him.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron finally said. "We'll see you at dinner?"

"Sure," Harry tried to look cheerful.

Left alone in the gloomy dungeons, he felt anything but cheerful. Snape's office was just down the corridor, and Harry decided that he might as well wait for Snape there.

Snape was still in the classroom, and Harry could hear the clang of cauldrons as they were forced back into cupboards.

When Snape was mistreating Potions equipment, it was best not to interrupt him, Harry decided.

Snape's office was unlocked. Harry went in and sat down, staring around the dimly lit room. Since the last time he was there, Snape had acquired a number of bizarre items, not the least of which was a pickled two-headed snake in a jar that sat in the center of the desk. Harry shuddered at the sight of the milky white eyes and barred fangs.

Voices and footsteps sounded outside.

"Was it necessary, Lupin, to involve Dumbledore?" Snape's voice demanded.

Harry couldn't hear Lupin's response over the sound of his own heart beating.

"You thought wrong," Snape continued.

"We have a right to the truth!" Lupin's voice rose angrily.

There was a brief silence, and Harry leaned forward in his chair. So, it was Snape that he had heard Lupin arguing with that day!

"Then you shall have it," Snape's poisonous voice was low and bitter. "Since you insist."

"I insist."

Was it Harry's imagination, or did Lupin sound apprehensive?

"Come into my office."

Harry froze. His eyes darted around the room. He had no doubt that he did not want to be found, and something in him desperately needed to stay and hear what was said.

The cupboard! Snape's private stores were in there, Harry knew, but there just might be enough room for him.

Not a moment too soon he shut the cupboard quietly behind himself and crouched on the floor. The door opened and he heard Snape sit down behind the desk.

"So," Snape's mocking voice broke the silence, "you want to hear the truth?" 


	4. What Harry Heard

Harry waited, barely daring to breathe. There was only silence from the other side of the cupboard door. If he didn't know that Snape and Lupin were there, he would have thought himself alone.

"Where shall I begin?" Snape's voice made Harry jump. "This is your show Lupin, why don't you tell me what you so desperately desire to know?"

"Johannen's confession. . . is there any truth to it?"

"If I recall correctly, Johannen made his confession under Veritaserum," Snape's voice was cold. "Was that question necessary?"

"I asked you to tell me what you know!"

"Then you should have been more specific!" Snape snarled at him.

"I restate my question." It sounded like Lupin was struggling to regain his composure. "Please continue."

"What I know, is only what I saw," Snape seemed to take a perverse pleasure in drawing out the conversation. "And I saw her on four separate occasions."

"Never at meetings?"

"No. Never at meetings."

"Why was she there?" Lupin's voice betrayed his shaken emotions.

"I don't have the answer."

"Did you ever speak to her?"

"No."

"You promised me the truth!" Lupin's voice again shook with anger. "Your story already contradicts established facts!"

"What facts are those?" Snape demanded. "And may I ask how you came by them? I've read the interrogation transcript -- there is nothing in it from which to draw conclusions."

"Arabella Figg. She came to me, and told me her suspicions."

An angry sniff from Snape.

"I don't know," Lupin continued, "how you managed to drive her from Hogwarts. But you wasted your time. She didn't know much, but it was enough to lead me in the right direction. Sirius. He was already at Azkaban, and Johannen was questioned there."

"I was wondering when you would drag Black into this."

"He was there! He heard the confession himself!" Lupin's chair scraped across the floor as he abandoned it.

"There's no need to yell," Snape said shortly. "Sit down."

There was a silence before Snape continued.

"Suit yourself, if you are comfortable."

An angry grunt from Lupin.

"What was it that Black revealed to you? Surely you knew of the accusation long before that."

"I did," Lupin seemed to be pacing in front of the desk, his voice becoming louder as he got closer to where Harry crouched. "But the transcript lacked one crucial detail that Sirius was able to provide. Can you guess what that detail was?"

"Enlighten me."

"The time frame," Lupin paused, and seemed to stop his pacing. "From there I reached my own conclusions."

"Leapt blindly to them, more likely," Snape's voice dripped with scorn.

"I wish that were so," Lupin drew a ragged breath. "You claim you never spoke to her?"

"You asked for the truth, and I gave it to you."

"The truth? You were seen together!" Lupin was yelling again. "You deny it? It was said under Veritaserum as well -- or will you now tell me there is a loophole for that?"

There was no answer from Snape.

"You admit it?"

"No."

Lupin snarled with rage, his frustration reaching its peak.

"I've heard nothing but lies! You deny facts, you offer no explanations, and you think I will leave here satisfied?"

"How you leave here is not my concern!" Snape pounded the desk, making the cupboard door quake and something slimy fall from a shelf and land on the back of Harry's neck. "You asked me your questions, and I've given you my answers. I'm tired of this game. Make your accusation!"

The silence was deafening.

Harry, kneeling on the cupboard floor, was shaking with anticipation.

"I'm not here to accuse. . ." Lupin began, his voice so low that Harry had to struggle to hear.

"Coward," Snape said with biting scorn.

"Let me finish," Lupin continued. "I won't accuse. There is only one more thing that I need to hear from you."

"So you can dismiss that as a lie as well?" Snape laughed harshly. "Well, go on then, lets have it."

"When she left, was it by choice?"

"He took her away."

"Then she betrayed him?"

"No," Snape laughed again. "How easily you jump between extremes. There is a middle ground. He took her away, but it brought her to her senses. She stayed with him willingly."

"And the child?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"Their child?" Snape repeated.

"Impossible by the time line!"

"Theirs."

"There is a test. . ."

"Not necessary," Snape interrupted, "in light of your facts."

"You admit. . ."

"He isn't."

There was a crash, the sound of breaking glass, and pounding footsteps. A minute later a door slammed somewhere above.

The room grew silent.

Snape sniffed irritably.

"There was no need to take it out on the paperweight." 


	5. Abomination

Snape had left the room, and after hearing nothing for several minutes, Harry stood up slowly and stepped out of the cupboard.

Glass crunched under his feet, and he had to avoid stepping on the two-headed snake.

He looked around the office, now silent and empty.

_What_ had he heard?

Lupin was right about one thing. This wasn't the truth. This was demented.

Where was it that his mother had been seen? What meetings? And who took her away?

What child? Was that him they were talking about? Lupin, whom he had up until now counted as a friend, had actually suggested that. . . But that was crazy.

Harry laughed, the sound coming out harsh and hoarse. There was a mirror on the wall right in front of him, and it told him all he needed to know.

Lupin was mad.

And Snape? Was it even necessary to comment?

His head pounded. He must have inhaled something in that cupboard. He didn't dare touch his neck, whatever had fallen under his collar had dried on his skin and felt slightly prickly. He'd go up to the dormitory. Wasn't it past dinner now? Ron and Hermione would miss him.

He laughed shakily again.

He had somehow made it out of the office and into the corridor, but between the pounding in his head and his blurred vision, he couldn't even recall which way led to the staircase. To the right, he finally chose.

"Mr. Potter," a voice behind him made him stop in his tracks, "did you perhaps forget the way to my office?"

Harry turned to face Snape, who continued, not waiting for him to answer.

"As it turns out, I don't have time to see you today," he glared down at Harry for a moment. "You will begin serving your detention tomorrow after classes. Be prompt."

Harry turned to go.

"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?" Snape stopped him.

Harry turned to look at him.

"The staircase is in _that_ direction," Snape was looking at him with disdain. "Or did you wish to visit the Slytherin common room?"

Harry could feel Snape watching him all the way down the corridor and up the stairs.

It wasn't until he was in the entrance hall that Harry felt like he could breathe again. To his left, the Great Hall was filled with students.

"Did Snape keep you that long?" Ron asked him as Harry sat down.

"Detention starting tomorrow after classes," Harry nodded, filling his plate before realizing that the sight of food made him nauseous.

"Oooh, sorry Harry," Hermione said pityingly from across the table.

"It's nothing new, is it?" Harry shrugged.

Now that he was out of the gloom of the dungeons, his brain was starting to work again. It was like shaking off a strange nightmare. He looked around the Hall and noticed that Lupin's seat at the staff table was empty.

Something pulled him, an irresistible urge.

"I need to find Professor Lupin," he said to Ron and Hermione. "I'll see you in the common room later."

He found Lupin in his temporary office on the seventh floor.

Lupin smiled when he saw Harry, until he took a better look at Harry's perplexed face.

"Is something wrong, Harry?" he asked, motioning for him to come inside the office.

"I heard your conversation with Snape just now," Harry said, feeling strangely calm. Why pretend he hadn't?

Lupin's face paled slightly and he ran his fingers through his hair, looking at Harry helplessly.

"You eavesdropped?"

"Are you going to lecture me?"

"I suppose not," Lupin continued to look at him with a strangely drawn and anguished expression.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked. "If you have a right to know, don't I?"

"Maybe I should call Professor Dumbledore. . ."

"What for? He's always said the truth is preferable to lies."

"Are you sure you want to hear this, Harry?" Lupin certainly didn't look like he wanted to discuss it.

"I already heard it," Harry reminded him, "now I just want the truth."

"If you heard us, then you know that my knowledge of the truth is limited," Lupin said wearily.

"It doesn't matter. I want to hear where it came from. With Sirius it's always 'James Potter this' and 'James Potter that'. Not with you though. Every time I mention my father you cringe."

Lupin sighed and leaned back against his desk, and finally, against his better judgment, launched into his story.

Most of it was exactly as Harry had already known or imagined. His parents had gone into hiding. Snape was spying for Dumbledore. So far, nothing against Harry's mother.

"She was seen, several times, at a house used as a meeting place by the Death Eaters,"

"How does that prove anything?" Harry exclaimed. "There are a hundred explanations!"

"Yes. . ." Lupin frowned, "but on one occasion she was seen with Severus Snape. You heard him deny that he ever spoke with her."

Harry felt like Lupin was still holding back a crucial piece of the puzzle.

"At the same time, James was here at Hogwarts," Lupin shook his head sadly. "There's no question about that. Dozens of people can verify, including Dumbledore."

"And you think that during that time, I. . ." Harry frowned as the pieces struggled to fit.

Lupin only nodded.

"But that would make me. . ."

"Busy spreading the cheer, Lupin?"

Snape stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Come here to tell more lies, Severus?" Lupin took an angry step in Snape's direction.

"Come to make sure you don't tell the poor boy something that will torment him," Snape retorted, smiling nastily, "but I see it's too late."

"Will someone just tell me. . ." Harry looked angrily between Lupin and Snape.

"You are not my son," Snape spoke to Harry, but his eyes were locked with Lupin's, "if that's what worries you."

The words hung between them.

"But don't take my word for it," Snape continued, glancing over his shoulder, "here's Dumbledore."

Dumbledore was indeed approaching. They waited in silence until he reached the office.

"Albus," Snape said in a suddenly silken voice, "do tell them, they don't seem to believe it coming from me."

Dumbledore looked at all three of them in turn, frowning.

"I can confirm that Severus was at Hogwarts for the time period in question," he finally told them.

Snape's mouth curved into a satisfied smile as he watched Lupin's face.

"He was delivering crucial information," Dumbledore continued, "and James temporarily took his place."

"Polyjuice?" Harry interrupted.

"Something like that," Snape nodded. "Now, I think this conversation. . ."

"Wait!" Lupin began pacing across the room. "I already confirmed my suspicions. Just after our conversation. The test was positive!"

All three of them turned to look at Snape.

"Of course it was," the sneer returned to Snape's face."You," he turned his dark eyes on Harry, the corner of his mouth twitching in anger, "are an abomination."

"Severus!" Dumbledore looked shocked.

Harry didn't understand any of it. By the looks of it, neither did Lupin. Dumbledore seemed to be the only one not thoroughly confused.

"I apologize," Snape leaned back against the doorframe, not looking the least remorseful.

Behind them, a group of students came down the corridor on the way to the Gryffindor common room.

"Perhaps Mr. Potter should be allowed to return to his dormitory," Snape suggested. "Safe in the knowledge that he is the product of James and Lily Potter."

That was it for Harry.

"Do you have to talk in riddles?" he yelled. "He says I'm not, you say I am! Which is it?"

"Both!" Snape looked disgusted. "But I had nothing to do with your conception," he glared in Lupin's direction, "as some are so intent on accusing me."

Harry gave up trying to make sense of it. He pushed past Snape into the corridor, and without turning to look back headed towards the safety and sanity of Gryffindor Tower. 


	6. Detention

The common room was nearly empty when Harry came in. There was no sign of either Ron or Hermione. He climbed the stairs to the dormitory, drew the curtain around his bed, and closed his eyes. He hoped that no one would disturb him, he didn't feel up to talking.

After a while he heard footsteps mounting the stairs, and the drape rustled. He could feel someone looking at him.

When the rustling sound came again, he opened his eyes.

The room had gotten dark, though he could see a small light coming from the direction of Neville's bed. He guessed that Neville was going to spend another night studying, as he often had to in order to keep up with his classmates.

Harry turned toward the wall, trying to keep back his disagreeable thoughts, but it was no use, they wouldn't be banished.

It had taken him a while to process the information whirling around his head, but eventually understanding came. He didn't want to believe it, but if everything he heard was true -- and as much as Harry wanted to ignore Snape's words he didn't believe that Dumbledore would lie -- then there was only one scenario that fit.

He shuddered with revulsion.

Neville's light went out, and after a few minutes Harry heard his unmistakable snores.

He would go to the library. He would look up Polyjuice in that book Hermione had used during their Second Year. That would tell him if there was any truth to this madness.

He was halfway up when he fell back miserably.

Snape still had his cloak.

The rest of the night passed slowly. Sleep wouldn't come, and Harry lay staring at the wall until the pale dawn had illuminated the dormitory. By then he had made up his mind. He would ask Hermione to get the book for him. It was no use trying to get permission himself, but she was often given permission to use the Restricted Section. She would want to know why, of course, but he would think of something to tell her.

He got his chance when Hermione caught up with him as soon as he came down to the common room. She looked unhappy about it, but agreed to try to get the book after morning classes.

Harry dreaded going to the Great Hall for breakfast, but with Ron and Hermione already casting suspicious looks in his direction, he had to keep pretending that everything was normal.

Everything wasn't normal, of course. He felt lousy after his sleepless night, and the sight of food made him ill.

Morning classes passed without incident, although later he couldn't remember any of the material, and at lunch Hermione passed him the book. He wanted to read it immediately, but forced himself to wait until he was alone.

That seemed to be a problem. Ron and Hermione had apparently decided that he was feeling depressed, and did their best to cheer him up. For the most part this involved ceaseless chatter and not allowing him to go off by himself. Before Harry knew it, it was time for afternoon classes.

He stowed the book in his bag and headed to Defense.

The class was usually interesting, but that day it was punctuated by frequent remorseful looks from Lupin. Harry tried to focus on his book and ignore him, but he was miserably aware of every pitying glance.

Potions was next, and Harry briefly considered returning to the dormitory. He knew he could get away with it. In fact, he was convinced that if he wanted to drop Potions altogether, Dumbledore might be convinced to allow him.

He sighed and headed for the dungeons. Professor Dumbledore had always expected him to face difficulties. It didn't matter if Dumbledore would make an exception this time, Harry couldn't make it for himself.

It was just Gryffindors in Potions that day, the Slytherins had another class.

As soon as Harry walked in he knew that Snape was in an especially bad mood.

Of course he was, Harry thought. He imagined that Dumbledore had plenty to say to him the previous night.

Strangely, though he was brutish to nearly every Gryffindor in turn, Snape seemed to ignore Harry altogether. When he had to check Harry's potion, his nose wrinkled in distaste, but he said nothing and moved on. Harry thought it had to be the first Potions class during which he had not been responsible for the loss of House points.

He watched Snape covertly throughout class. It made him ill to think that he could be related to someone so bloodthirsty, as he listened to Snape berating a girl until she looked about to cry.

There was nothing of Snape in him, Harry thought furiously. It had to be a mistake.

Class ended and when the last Gryffindor had left, Harry found himself alone with Snape.

Unable to continue to ignore him, Snape looked up.

"Why are you still here?" he demanded.

Apparently, Snape had forgotten all about detention.

"Detention," Harry reminded him before he could think what he was doing.

Snape stared sourly at him.

"Very well," he looked around, "wipe the desks and put away the cauldrons." And he stalked out of the room.

Harry scrubbed the desks for a while, but when Snape did not return he decided it was safe to take a look at his book. He had a feeling that once he left the dungeons, Ron and Hermione would make sure he had no time to himself.

He sat on the edge of his desk and opened the book. He found the right page and began to read the complicated instructions.

The information he wanted wasn't there. Maybe he had missed something. He turned back to the beginning and began to read again.

Suddenly he felt a warm breath on his neck, and straightened up automatically. His back bumped into Snape's shoulder, and he jumped off the desk in horror. How long had Snape been standing there?

"I'm flattered that you are finally taking such a keen interest in potions," Snape looked at the book now lying on the floor, and raised an eyebrow. "Now I know you couldn't have taken another midnight stroll down to the library, Mr. Potter, so I assume that someone checked out that book for you."

Harry couldn't remember if that was against school rules.

"I suggest you take it back immediately."

A very ugly smile spread across Snape's face.

"Especially since it isn't the right book."

It was Harry's turn to look sour.

"You may go," Snape told him.

Detention was not even halfway over. For some reason that made Harry angry.

"I'm not finished," he protested.

"I can see that," Snape surveyed the disarrayed room, "but I think the book takes precedence."

"You just want me to leave!" Harry said hotly.

Snape ignored this observation.

"Tomorrow you will report to McGonagall to complete your detention," he said, and made a dismissive motion toward the door. "Shut the door on your way out." He turned his back on Harry and began collecting the cauldrons.

Harry didn't move. He couldn't believe Snape was trying to get rid of him. Snape seemed to have an entirely new attitude toward him, and it made Harry furious. He would have never believed it if he wasn't experiencing it, but being disregarded was worse than being sneered at. Gone was Snape's biting sarcasm, gone the insults and the callous remarks about James Potter. . . Snape couldn't even be bothered to take House points anymore!

It occurred to Harry only briefly that for over four years he had wished Snape would leave him alone, and now that it had happened he was infuriated by it.

"You're still here," Snape commented from across the room.

Harry wordlessly began scrubbing another desk. The look on Snape's face told him that Snape thought him quite mad, but apparently it wasn't worth wasting words on.

Harry scrubbed. Snape ignored him, except for a few resentful looks, and graded essays.

Detention ended, and Harry began to stuff his books into his bag.

"One more thing, Mr. Potter," Snape stopped him. Harry thought there was a hint of the old spitefulness in his eyes.

"You might like to know that I have turned your cloak over to Professor Dumbledore. You will have to ask him for it if you want it back," Snape paused pointedly, but Harry's face was blank. "Although," he continued, clearly disappointed that Harry hadn't gotten his meaning, "in light of recent events it seems that you have no claim on it."

Harry stared at him. Maybe Snape was returning to normal. It suddenly seemed likely that it was Dumbledore who had insisted he stop badgering Harry.

There was nothing to do but leave. He gathered up his books and walked out.

He had gone only a few steps down the corridor when his anger exploded. He turned and stomped back into the classroom.

If he could have seen himself, he would have understood why Snape rose when he saw him, and took an involuntary step back as Harry marched up to his desk.

Harry's face felt hot, his eyes burned, and his heart pounded.

"You!" he was so angry his voice came out hoarse. "You are just going to ignore me!" He searched for something else to yell, but words abandoned him. He settled for slamming his fist on the desk.

Snape sat down, looking calmer now that he was reasonably sure Harry was not going to lunge for his throat. He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair.

"What would you like me to do with you?" he asked, his voice not betraying any emotion.

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again before he realized that he had no answer.

Snape continued to stare at him coldly.

"I hope that you are not as much a fool as Lupin."

"He isn't!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"Really?" Snape asked. "What was his purpose then, in dredging up something that should have been left buried?"

"He wanted to know the truth!"

"And now _you_ know it," Snape shook his head in an irritated way, "and was it worth it?"

"I don't know what you mean," Harry glared at him.

Snape looked exasperated at the stupidity.

"What I mean, is that this particular truth will serve no purpose but to make life uncomfortable for as many people as it's shared with." He paused. "I suggest you keep it to yourself, and hope that fool Lupin does the same."

"You'd hate that, would you?" Harry demanded. "Having everyone find out that I'm your son?"

"I believe we've already covered that ground," an ugly grimace crossed Snape's face. "You are confused. I have no responsibility to you."

Harry didn't know what to say to that.

"You owe me the truth, at least," he hoped that he sounded convincing.

"You missed the point entirely," Snape glared down at him. "I don't owe you anything."

"Tell me why. . ." but Harry couldn't finish that thought.

"Don't ask me to tell you what would put such a perverted idea into someone's mind."

Harry felt a mad desire to throw something at Snape, but remembered in time that he had started this conversation himself.

He couldn't think of anything more to say. His anger abandoned him, leaving him feeling deflated. There was nothing more to be gained. He turned to leave.

He was at the door when Snape spoke again.

"To test her."

"What?" Harry spun around to face him.

But Snape had returned to grading essays, and didn't look up. 


	7. Desolation

For the most part, Harry succeeded in acting normal, and after a while his friends seemed to accept his occasional silences and solitary walks. None of them knew how long each day seemed to him.

None of his classes interested him enough to be a reprieve from his gloom. Defense Against the Dark Arts had changed from one of his favorite classes to one he dreaded. Potions was a perpetual source of aggravation, as Snape continued to ignore him.

Dumbledore and Lupin seemed to have changed overnight, both acting unnatural around him, as if waiting for him to blow up or break down. Harry found it difficult to interact with either of them, and so avoided them whenever possible.

Sirius' violent reaction, though not aimed at him, hurt Harry considerably. It was one more person that he could not share his thoughts with. For the first time, Harry was glad when Sirius' brief visit ended.

He tried to reason with himself. He even forgave his mother for her mistakes.

Dumbledore, who had evidently had more luck getting the truth out of Snape than either Lupin or Harry, had finally explained to him how James had found out about Lily's secret affiliation with the Death Eaters, and took her away from their influence. In the end she had rejoined the war against Voldemort, realizing her blunder and dedicating herself once more to the Light cause. It was harder to understand the secret loathing that Lily Potter had harbored against Muggles. How could she hate something that was a part of herself?

Harry did not doubt his parents' love for him, he needed only to close his eyes and hear their final moments play out inside his head to know that both his parents had given their lives willingly in an attempt to stop Voldemort from killing him.

Nothing had changed, wasn't that the one thing that everyone could agree upon? James Potter was his father. Lily Potter was his mother. Snape was. . .

That was the factor that he could not reason away.

What was most maddening was that he found himself sympathizing with Snape. Clearly it was as difficult for Snape to be related to Harry as it was for Harry to know that there was something of Snape in him. Harry even found himself defending Snape's position, when Sirius seemed ready to confront him.

Or maybe it was his own position he was defending. He just wanted to forget, to move on with his life. He believed that he could, if only everyone else would stop dredging it up, with their worried glances in his direction and their noticeable discomfort around him.

It angered him, because what could he do? The more cheerful and normal he tried to act, the more worried they seemed. What did they want him to do, if they wouldn't let him forget? Certainly he couldn't make Snape accept him. Even if he wanted to accept Snape.

He _didn't_. That was possibly the only thing he was really sure of anymore, and he clung to it.

He watched Snape openly now, both in Potions and at meals. Since Snape ignored him no matter what Harry did, he no longer dropped his eyes when he thought Snape might catch his look. The few times that it happened, Snape looked annoyed but said nothing.

It was distressing, seeing Snape maltreat others, while Harry himself was spared. There was nothing new in Snape's behavior, only it grated on Harry's raw nerves to realize that there was something of Snape in him. He could dismiss Snape's tyrannical ways before, but now Snape's every action and habit had to be put to careful scrutiny.

To his horror, Harry was discovering that he had more in common with Snape than he ever thought possible.

He had taken it for granted that he was like James Potter. That's what he had been told, by countless people, and he had accepted it because he had no way of confirming or denying it. Now that he knew James Potter's traits could not have been passed on to him, the only possibility remaining was that in the single year he had spent with his parents he had picked up some of the man's inherent characteristics.

That was hard to believe, no matter how much he wanted to.

He didn't know enough about James Potter to make judgments about his personality. Snape, on the other hand, was a live model for him to study.

Every time he felt his anger rising, every time a cruel or sarcastic remark jumped to his tongue in response to Malfoy's taunting, he had to admit that it was more likely a trait inherited from Snape than from James Potter. He clung to the fact that like James he was an excellent flier, until he overheard Malfoy bragging that Snape had helped him train for Quidditch. In the very first game Harry could see the undeniable improvement.

He had enough awareness to notice that he had distanced himself from his friends. They no longer came to find him when he had gone off on his own after classes. Ron no longer stopped him when he left the common room early to spend the rest of the evening alone in the dormitory. Hermione even stopped pestering him about his schoolwork, though he continued to put in less and less effort in his classes.

"You will fail History, Harry, if you don't study!" she told him once.

He had waved her off, told her he would study later. He had even tried, but his concentration wandered.

Even Quidditch didn't seem as important anymore.

Finally Dumbledore caught up with him as he was about to leave the Great Hall one evening.

"Harry, may I have a word with you?" Dumbledore motioned him toward the small antechamber next to the staff room.

Harry went in silently, and sat down. Dumbledore sat down in front of him, and studied him for a minute before speaking.

"I know you must be feeling confused, Harry. . ."

"Snape said it was to test her!" Harry interrupted suddenly.

Dumbledore blinked several times, the change of subject confusing him for a moment.

"That could very well be true," he finally said. "It must have been a shock, to see her there. It's understandable that he wanted to see how far gone she was."

"Understandable. . .?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Didn't he know what could happen?"

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Potions had never been James' best subject." He paused, and added, softly. "Neither had consequences."

There! Harry thought. That was at least one way that he was like James Potter. Weren't people always telling him he was heedless? Then he remembered that Snape had joined the Death Eaters. Not much thought for consequences could have gone into that decision, either.

"I look like James Potter," Harry continued.

"That's true," Dumbledore peered closely at him. "It's possible that. . ."

Harry waited for him to continue, but Dumbledore seemed to think better of it.

"What's possible?" he demanded.

"Your mother was exceptionally talented with charms."

"Charms? You mean they might wear off and I'll start looking like. . ." Harry frowned, the thought too hideous to continue.

"It is possible," Dumbledore admitted, "although it is unlikely that they would wear off without an external stimulus."

They sat in silence, Harry chewing on a nail, Dumbledore looking uncomfortable.

"He's ignoring me, you know," Harry finally said. "Pretending I'm not even there."

"That may be my fault," Dumbledore confessed.

So it was true, Dumbledore had told Snape to leave Harry alone.

"How can he pretend I don't exist?"

"We are on dangerous ground here, Harry." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "If we are talking about holding him accountable for. . ."

"I don't want to hold him accountable! I just want. . ." Harry stopped to consider. What _did_ he want? "I want my life back! I want things to make sense again!"

Dumbledore stayed silent. Harry realized that for once, Dumbledore did not have the answers.

"I think I better go," he said, getting up. "I have homework."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in a way that told Harry it was one of the things he had meant to bring up.

"Yes, you better go then," was all he said. 


	8. What Could Have Been

Harry kept his word, and did study most of that evening.

He just wanted to be left alone, he convinced himself. For that to happen he had to keep his grades up, act normal, not let his friends or his teachers know what he was thinking.

He played Wizard Chess with Ron that night, let Hermione check his History homework, and attached a friendly note for Lupin to his essay on ghouls. The following day he put all his efforts into early-morning Quidditch practice.

Maybe he was on to something. When he focused on acting as if nothing was wrong, he could almost forget all the things that were.

He was having the best day in two weeks, until Potions. It was impossible to pretend that nothing was wrong while listening to the reason for everything being wrong yelling at his friends.

Potions ended. Harry gathered up his things and was about to leave the classroom with Ron and Hermione.

"One moment, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up to see Snape standing on the other side of the room, a very cold look on his face.

Ron and Hermione gave Harry a questioning glance as he put his book bag down. He attempted an encouraging smile but his face felt frozen.

He wasn't looking forward to whatever Snape was going to say to him. Most likely Dumbledore had once again interfered. Harry wished for the hundredth time that Dumbledore, as well as everyone else, would just stay out of it.

The classroom emptied, and Harry was left alone with Snape.

Snape waited until the last of the footsteps died down in the corridor outside, crossed the room and shut the classroom door.

"I heard some interesting things, Mr. Potter," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "Can't eat? Can't sleep? Falling behind in your classes?"

"Dumbledore is quite worried," he continued, his eyes narrowing. "And he came to me. Not to Lupin, whose fault it is. To me." A very ugly look crossed Snape's face. "Can you explain that?"

Harry shook his head. He wished desperately that Dumbledore hadn't dragged Snape into this.

"Is this where I'm expected to make a. . . _paternal_. . . speech?" Snape's lip curled in a sneer. "Am I supposed to give you. . . _fatherly_. . . guidance?"

Harry shook his head again, but couldn't help thinking miserably of all the speeches and advice he had missed out on through not having parents. Even strict, unemotional parents had to be better than nothing.

The way Snape was looking at him, Harry wondered if his last thought had been written on his forehead.

"Are you thinking, Mr. Potter," he demanded, "that you would like me to begin spouting fatherly advice?"

"Is that an option?" Harry inquired sarcastically.

"Hardly!" Snape gave him another fierce look.

"Because you hate me?" Harry demanded.

"Because I'm not your father!" Snape looked as if he wanted to strangle Harry for making him repeat that yet again.

"Actually," Harry corrected him, "you are."

Snape stared at him in wordless fury.

Harry laughed a hollow, bitter laugh.

"Oh, I know it wasn't your fault," he continued. "I'm not holding you accountable. I'm just wondering how anyone could hold such a grudge. Against a child. For being born." He glared at Snape. "It wasn't my fault either."

Snape looked like he might disagree, but Harry went on.

"You treated me like dirt from the day I arrived at Hogwarts. And all this time, you _knew._" He paused for breath, his anger overwhelming him. "No matter what you did to me, I would have never thought you could treat your own child like that. But you _did._" His anger was mounting quickly, and his voice rose. "It doesn't matter how it happened. It couldn't be taken back once it did. You were my father, and you could have chosen to accept that instead of despising me."

"Clearly you are ignorant in these matters," Snape told him with a contemptuous sniff.

"Maybe I am, but at least I'm not denying that there's a part of you inside of me. That's what no amount of logic can reason away." He paused. "I tried."

Snape laughed harshly.

"Did I hear you correctly, Mr. Potter?" he asked, his lip curling in a sneer. "You think we have something in common?"

Harry didn't answer. He had thought it, but to say it out loud was beyond his ability.

"You are nothing like me!" Snape continued angrily. "I could see that from the day you were brought here! You should be grateful for your perfect parents."

"They're dead!" Harry yelled, losing his temper altogether. "Do you think I want just a memory?"

"You should!" Snape looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Even when they're dead they're the only fitting parents for you."

"I never expected my parents to be perfect." Harry frowned. "That's crazy. They weren't perfect. You said yourself that my mother almost joined the Death Eaters. And I forgave her."

"How touching," Snape sneered. "And would everyone else feel the same way?"

Would they? What would everyone think if they found out about his mother? Harry couldn't say for sure.

"You never said anything because of what people would think of her?" he asked, not understanding.

Snape snorted. "I never said anything because there was no point."

"No point?" Harry repeated.

"Use your head!" Snape snarled at him.

Harry tried to think. He just didn't understand, no matter how he looked at it.

Wait.

He looked at Snape suspiciously.

Death Eaters. Voldemort. Snape.

Somewhere deep in his mind it began to make sense, but only enough to frustrate him as he tried to get at the truth.

"I don't understand."

"No, of course not," Snape scoffed.

"Then tell me!"

Snape hesitated. Harry could see that he was about to say no, to keep the truth from him.

"Please!" he cried, jumping up and taking a few steps toward Snape, who took as many steps back to keep the distance between them.

"What do you think I could have done, after you were born?" Snape asked him. "Just tell me that."

Harry understood.

"But after they died. . ." he tried again.

"What about it?"

"You could have. . ." but then he realized, Snape couldn't have. In the time following Voldemort's fall, the Death Eaters were slowly rounded up by the Ministry. Snape's own status was still uncertain then.

Snape watched him work it out, and waited.

"But after. . ." Harry struggled to find the illusive words that would make everything make sense.

Snape shook his head.

"Why not!" Harry demanded.

"You don't seem to realize what the world was like. All anyone could talk about was The Boy Who Lived," Snape sneered as he said the words, "and the parents who had sacrificed themselves for him."

"So you never thought of claiming me?"

"What gives you the idea that I ever wanted to claim you?"

"Because I was _yours!"_

"You are still convinced that means something?" Snape mocked.

Harry didn't answer, afraid that his voice would shake. Because it did mean something, he realized. Maybe not to Snape, but it meant something to him. A lump rose in his throat, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep it still.

"Alright," Snape sighed in frustration. "Alright. I could have been your father once. Maybe. But the time for that passed. It was better to let you have the parents you were meant to have."

There was a silence while both regarded each other.

"What about. . . now?" Harry asked, his voice really shaking this time.

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but didn't, because at that moment the door opened and Dumbledore walked in. Harry could have howled in frustration.

"Am I interrupting?" Dumbledore asked as he peered closely at their faces, Snape's a stony mask, Harry's pale and wide-eyed. "Dinner was over a quarter hour ago."

"No," Snape began to gather up the papers on his desk. "Mr. Potter was just leaving."

"I wasn't!" Harry cried, turning to Dumbledore. "He just said that he would have claimed me if. . ."

"Don't put words in my mouth!" Snape interrupted indignantly. "I said nothing of the sort!"

They glared at each other as Dumbledore tried to make sense of them both.

"Fine! Fine, just keep denying it!" Harry pushed past Dumbledore, needing to get away. His book bag lay abandoned in the isle next to his desk. He stomped down the corridor, the floor in front of him blurring through the hot tears that had finally sprung to his eyes. 


	9. War and Pride

It was even harder now to pretend that everything was normal. He had to remind himself constantly that no one knew, afraid to meet his friends' eyes, afraid they might somehow read his thoughts.

Harry was finding out an age-old truth. The less attainable something was, the more desirable it became.

But who could have ever thought he would want Snape?

He put all his energy into keeping that fact from Lupin, lest it get back to Sirius through him. His efforts were wasted, however, through more interference from Dumbledore.

It was hard to judge Lupin's reaction. Whatever he felt, he kept it to himself. Now if he would only keep it from Sirius.

All the years of belonging to no one seemed to haunt Harry. He tried to reason with himself. He had Sirius now.

But Sirius was a fugitive on the run.

What if he wasn't? What if he was free to take Harry away this very minute? Harry tried to convince himself that it would be enough.

Somehow, deep down, he knew it wouldn't be. That elusive something, the sense of belonging to someone, being a part of someone, beckoned to his very soul.

It didn't matter how absurd it was, wanting to belong to Snape.

Snape, who had been cruel to him from the very first day they met. Who had ridiculed him in front of nearly every Potions class Harry had ever attended. Who had taken away more House points than Harry could count. Who had tried to have him expelled from the school. . .

It was a losing battle he was fighting with himself. His weapons were reason and logic, useful only against the mind and the common sense, but worthless against the heart.

Meanwhile, life continued. He had adapted; he was quite good now at playing the part, and although he was constantly afraid that his friends would see through his disguise, in fact he was very convincing.

There were more important things going on in the world than his own problems.

The fact of Voldemort's return had finally been accepted. The Ministry of Magic was mounting a defense, preparing for the worst. Harry kept up with the developments along with everyone else.

It was rare now that he could pick up the paper and not see evidence of the war. The death toll was still small, but climbing steadily. Several Ministry officials were reported missing. Several spies were discovered.

And finally, on one cold December morning, Harry opened the paper and read the news that should have set his heart soaring.

Peter Pettigrew had been apprehended.

"Harry!" Ron's voice broke into his thoughts, "Harry, have you seen this?"

Harry looked up and saw his friends, their faces alight with happiness. He struggled to throw off the chill that covered him. His face refused to cooperate -- was it made of stone?

"I saw," he told them.

"He must be in shock," Hermione said aside to Ron.

They seemed to accept it. Or maybe it was the truth.

Everywhere he went, he met with words of congratulations. When had all of this become public knowledge? It seemed that everyone knew about Sirius now, everyone was happy that Harry would have a family at last.

Everyone, except Harry himself.

He stumbled around the castle, looking for a place he could be alone. Anywhere, just to get away. He hid in the Astronomy tower until the afternoon class forced him to find other shelter. He even tried one of the secret passages, but the biting cold drove him out. He skipped meals, ignoring his hunger, because he couldn't face that many people staring at him, talking to him. He took advantage of everyone being gathered in the Great Hall to try to find some place to be by himself.

Finally he found himself on the staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office. The stone gargoyle guarding the entrance had simply moved aside to let him pass, though he had given no password.

He emerged in Dumbledore's office, empty except for Fawkes. He sat down, and waited, but Dumbledore did not appear.

At least he was alone now. He could think.

He was happy, he told himself. He was glad for Sirius. He was even glad for himself, he realized. At least now there wouldn't be the problem of where he would go over the holidays. No more Dursleys. That was a happy thought, if anything was. Maybe he could shake himself awake, forget what he couldn't have and be happy with what he would have from now on.

Enough self-pity. He wouldn't yearn for someone who despised him. Where was his pride?

He climbed to his feet.

His eyes fell on his cloak, draped over the back of a chair standing in the corner. He picked it up.

It _was_ his. It had belonged to his father. The father who had wanted him. Who had loved him. Who had been willing to die for him. What did Snape ever do for him?

He stuffed the cloak into the pocket of his robes, turned, and left the office. He wasn't sure where he was going, just that he was ready to face the world again.

As he walked down the marble staircase, Harry convinced himself that he had discovered something stronger than the heart.

Pride.

Mixed with it came anger. With every step his temper rose a notch, and by the time he had reached the entrance to the Great Hall there was a raging inferno inside him.

In one sweeping glance he took in the scene in front of him. At the staff table, Dumbledore and McGonagall were deep in conversation. There was no sign of Snape.

Harry turned around and headed decisively down the dungeons staircase.

He would end this, once and for all! 


	10. Betrayal

His anger had completely taken him over. His heart pounded in time with his footsteps on the dungeon corridor. Snape's office was just ahead.

He almost didn't stop in time when he heard the voices. Another step and he would have betrayed his presence.

He ducked into the dark doorway of a classroom, pressing to the wall, waiting, listening, willing his heart to be still so he could hear.

"He belongs to me. I'm the one he should want. I'm the one who sacrificed. I'm the one who suffered."

Such a cold, cruel voice. It made Harry shiver, dousing the flames of his anger. He leaned forward, craning around the doorframe, trying to catch a glimpse of the voice's owner.

"You are nothing to him! By your own choice, just remember that. He despises you! He has every reason to."

Lower now, and colder.

"It's too late. You've had your chance."

A long silence followed. Harry hardly dared to breathe, waiting to hear more.

"Don't get in my way, or it will be the last thing you ever do."

Harry stifled a gasp.

"Let this be perfectly clear. I will not let you have him. No matter what I have to do to prevent it."

The voice was so cutting, so cold. . .

"If he comes to you, you will tell him what he needs to hear. Hurt him. Like you always have. Leave him with no doubts."

Harry slid down the wall to the floor.

"Do you understand?!"

A deadly silence, save for the pounding inside Harry's head.

Then. . .

"Perfectly," answered another voice, one that Harry recognized without effort.

A door slammed, making him jump. He pressed into the wall, trying to melt into it, to disappear. He was hidden by the shadows. From where he crouched, he could not avoid looking directly into the corridor outside.

Heavy, angry footsteps. Closer. Closer.

He held his breath.

And tasted blood as he bit his lip to stifle a cry when Sirius stomped past him toward the staircase.

He sat, stunned, the back of his head pressing painfully into the uneven stone wall behind him. He could have sat there all night, frozen on the dungeon floor.

"Harry," a voice so soft he thought he was hearing things.

He raised his head, looking through blurring eyes around the dark room.

Like a ghost materializing out of thin air, the shape of Remus Lupin emerged out of the shadows.

He stood there, looking down at Harry on the floor, not speaking, not moving. Finally he held out a hand.

Harry let Lupin pull him off the floor, and they stood, still and silent, together in the darkness.

Minutes -- or maybe hours -- passed before Harry's senses returned to him.

His face was wet. His eyes burned as the tears flowed freely. He reached up to wipe them away, but Lupin was quicker. He dried Harry's face with the sleeve of his robes.

Harry would have collapsed against him, but Lupin held him at arms' length, not letting him find the comfort he needed. Turned him around. Pushed him through the doorway. Held him up as he stumbled down the hall, until they stood in front of the closed door. Held him tighter when Harry struggled, realizing what Lupin was about to do. Shoved the door open, and forced him to step inside.

Snape's office was dark, lit by a single torch. Harry's eyes took a long time adjusting after the brightness of the corridor outside. He heard Snape before he saw him.

"Explain yourself!" Snape growled out of the darkness, his voice containing every ounce of anger and hostility that he was capable of.

Lupin gave Harry another shove forward.

"He heard," he said simply.

"What. . .?!"

Harry could see Snape now, and Snape's eyes blazed in a way he had never seen before.

"He heard everything," Lupin repeated, and with a final push he turned and left Harry standing in the middle of Snape's office. The door closed behind him, softly, but with a thump that echoed in Harry's chest.

Snape was looking at him with those eyes. . . Harry shuddered under the look. It wasn't a glare. It wasn't hatred, or loathing, or malice, but it pierced him and held him bound, rooted to the spot.

"Mr. Potter. . ." Snape breathed out heavily and drew a long breath before continuing. "You seem to have an aptitude for eavesdropping. A terrible habit. Or haven't you figured that out yet?"

"I wasn't eavesdropping," Harry began. He just wanted to get this over with, and get out. The look that was on Snape's face was truly frightening. "I was coming to. . ." he stopped, suddenly recalling why he had come down to the dungeons in the first place.

Snape must have read his mind, with those eyes that seemed to see right through him.

"Yes. . . I can imagine," he smiled coldly. "But Black beat you to it."

Harry stared at him. Snape was right, of course. Sirius had said some of the very things that Harry himself would have said. Things that had sounded so right when it was he who wanted to say them, and had been so wrong when he heard them said out loud just minutes ago.

Snape saw his confusion. He laughed, a harsh, low laugh.

"Black seems to be under the impression that you need some help making your decision," he continued. "Would you like me to give you all the reasons you need to go running to him?"

Harry cringed under the coldness of Snape's voice. He was about to hear all the things he had suspected and feared, all the things that had kept him awake night after night. Once he heard them, who else could he run to but Sirius?

Sirius, whose voice could be every bit as cold as Snape's. Who thought Harry belonged to him, a prize for his years of suffering. Who wouldn't give Harry a chance to make his own choice.

Snape hadn't given him a choice either, before. But Harry thought he heard a choice offered in his question.

"No," he managed to say, though his mouth had gone dry and his throat threatened to close over the words.

Snape stared at him, waiting.

"I want you to give me just one reason not to." 


	11. Deadlock

"What makes you think I have any reasons to offer?" Snape asked him after a long pause.

Harry's thoughts whirled. He hated how Snape always demanded cold, detached logic, when all Harry had were illogical, jumbled emotions.

"Why else would Sirius find it necessary to come here and threaten you?" he finally said.

It was a better argument than Snape must have expected. Harry saw that he had the upper hand, and continued hurriedly.

"I mean, if you didn't want me, he wouldn't be worried, would he?"

"He wasn't concerned about me. He was concerned about you."

Harry saw the flaw in that argument.

"Then why did he try to threaten you into rejecting me, if he was so sure you'd do it on your own?"

Snape frowned for a moment.

"Black is an irrational man."

After what he had heard, Harry couldn't help agreeing, but out loud he said, "I don't think so. I think he was worried you would give in to me."

Snape gave him a glare, but it seemed to lack something. Harry met his eyes, challenging him. Under the pressure, Snape tried an old tactic.

"Your arrogance knows no bounds, Mr. Potter," he sneered. "I'm sure it never occurred to you that someone might not be thrilled at the prospect of being your guardian."

"You know that's not true!" Harry protested. It had been less than two years since he had felt wanted for the first time that he could remember -- by Sirius.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Alright," Snape conceded suddenly, "I will tell you what had Black so worried."

Harry looked at him suspiciously. Was Snape going to tell the truth? The expression on his face was unreadable.

"Whether you appreciated it or not," Snape looked as if the answer to that was quite obvious, "I have tried my best to protect you -- usually from yourself -- since the day you arrived at this school."

Harry remembered the incident at a Quidditch game when Professor Quirrell had jinxed his broom and Snape kept him from falling more than fifty feet to the ground. He recalled also, though grudgingly, that Snape had gone after him into the Shrieking Shack, when he had every reason to believe that Sirius was a dangerous Dark Wizard intent on killing Harry and anyone who stood in the way.

"Black has always been irrational," Snape continued. "Dangerous to himself and to everyone around him. Notorious for his outbursts whenever he didn't get his way. He hasn't changed. . . even Lupin sees it." He gave Harry a piercing glance as he finished, obviously under the assumption that Lupin's opinion meant more to Harry than his own.

"I would. . ." Snape looked very sour as he said this, "take you. . . to keep you from his influence," he finished and leaned back against the desk behind him, as if suddenly needing the support.

Harry looked at him mutely.

Snape would take him.

Yes, but not for the reasons Harry had wanted.

He had to swallow a lump that rose in his throat.

The situation had just taken a decisive turn for the worse. Harry found himself caught between two men, one who believed he already owned him, and one who would take him for a reason that amounted to revenge against the other.

He felt a prickling behind his eyes.

"I think I've heard enough," he said, in a strangely steady and emotionless voice that did not sound like his own. "It's late, I'm going back to the dormitory."

Snape looked confused.

Harry walked out of the office and fled upstairs, not stopping until he had reached the seventh floor.

There, his steps slowed.

He had to pass Lupin's office to get to the Gryffindor common room. Without looking, he could feel that Lupin was there, waiting for him. The door was open, there was no way to slip by unseen.

Suddenly he remembered his cloak, still in his pocket. He threw it around himself, and began to walk, as quietly as he could, toward the Fat Lady's portrait at the end of the hallway. He passed Lupin's office, not daring to look inside, and quickened his pace.

"Harry?" Lupin called after him from the office doorway.

Harry turned around slowly. Damn werewolf senses. Lupin must have smelled him.

"Harry, if you don't want to talk to me, that's fine," Lupin continued. "But I want you to know that I'm here."

Harry considered for a moment, then pulled off his cloak and faced Lupin, who motioned for him to step inside the office.

The door closed behind them. Harry sat down, looking at the floor.

"Where is he?" he asked before Lupin could even sit down in the chair in front of him.

"Sirius?" Lupin repeated. "With Professor Dumbledore."

Harry sighed. Was there no way to keep Dumbledore out of this?

"I know what you heard must have been. . . upsetting," Lupin tried to catch Harry's eyes, but Harry continued to stare at the floor. "Sirius is. . ." Lupin made a helpless gesture as he searched for the right words.

"Irrational? Dangerous? Temperamental?" Harry demanded. "That's what Snape said."

Lupin sighed heavily. "He may be right. Twelve years in Azkaban are something to consider, but even before. . ." his voice trailed off again.

"He would be a bad influence on me?"

Lupin nodded slowly.

"Seeing that you are already quite rash yourself, it's likely that he would be." Lupin met Harry's eyes, looking apologetic. "He cares about you, Harry, he really does. Unfortunately, he may not be the most stable guardian for you, and he might. . . lose sight of what is best for you."

"You think I would be better off with Snape?"

"Has he made you that offer?" Lupin asked, looking surprised.

"He said he has always tried to protect me," Harry told him, "and he would take me to protect me from Sirius."

Lupin frowned, and stayed silent.

"I don't like it either," Harry said, matching Lupin's frown.

"I'm afraid you are the only one who can make that choice, Harry," Lupin told him.

That wasn't the answer Harry had been looking for. He made it back to the dormitory, somehow avoiding Ron and Hermione's questions, and tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts.

At least Sirius wanted him! he thought angrily. But Snape wanted what was best for him, a voice inside him countered quickly. It would be a lot easier living with Sirius. Or would it, after what he had heard?

It was no use. An impossible choice. They balanced each other out, with good qualities as well as bad. Just a few weeks ago, had anyone asked him to compare Sirius and Snape, Harry would have laughed at the absurdity of the question. He could only wish that things were still that simple. Harry rebelled against the idea of being owned by someone, just as he couldn't bear the thought of being raised by someone out of a feeling of duty. Hadn't he had enough of that at the Dursleys?

He turned to the wall, willing his thoughts to stop.

He couldn't make the choice. 


	12. The Verdict

Things only got worse in the morning, when he had to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast and face Sirius for the first time.

The scene was disturbing. Snape sat at one end of the staff table, Sirius at the other. Somehow, they managed to glare at each other nonetheless. Between them, Dumbledore was looking unusually displeased, and Lupin exhausted and grim. The other members of staff were strangely hushed.

As he sat down, Harry caught Sirius looking at him, and realized what a truly terrible mood Sirius was in. Clearly, Snape was not the only one he was angry with.

Harry kept his eyes down on his plate, and tried to focus on what Ron and Hermione were saying about the upcoming Christmas break. Unfortunately, that conversation quickly turned into questions about his own plans. They assumed that he would be leaving Hogwarts over the holidays, with Sirius. In desperation Harry lied, saying Dumbledore thought he would be safer if he stayed at Hogwarts. It hurt him to realize how often he lied to his friends now, just to avoid their questions. Not too long ago he had shared everything with them, but now even a simple conversation had to be forced.

As soon as breakfast ended, Harry allowed a crowd of students to surround him and carry him out of the Hall before any of the staff had a chance to leave their table. He might not be able to hide indefinitely, but for the moment it was the best plan he had.

Fortunately he didn't have to hide long before morning classes. He wouldn't have to worry about facing either Snape or Sirius until that afternoon, as long as he could avoid going to lunch. He planned to hide out in the library. Even Hermione wouldn't be able to find fault with that, even if she would be suspicious. He went as far as to hope that she and Ron might be persuaded to bring him some food.

He couldn't help laughing a little at the absurdity of the situation.

Next to him, Ron shot him a searching glance. "What's the matter with you lately, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"You've been acting strange. . ." Ron frowned, trying to define Harry's strangeness. "You don't even seem to be happy to see Sirius. I saw him walking toward us after breakfast, and when I turned to tell you, you were gone."

"I didn't see him!" Harry protested, feeling his face flush.

Ron just gave him another mistrustful look and dropped the subject, turning to talk to Neville instead. Harry walked silently behind them, feeling dejected and alone.

Though the day dragged, somehow he made it to his last class, which was Potions. He stood at the top of the staircase to the dungeons, letting everyone else pass him. He was considering returning to his dormitory. It wasn't a difficult decision to make. Even his pride was ignoring him now.

He turned to walk back upstairs, then ducked down the staircase when he saw Sirius coming toward him.

He was miserably aware of how obvious that had been.

He stumbled into class, late, and Snape turned wrathful eyes toward him. For a prolonged moment they looked at each other, and he could swear that both Slytherins and Gryffindors were holding their breath, waiting to see what Snape's reaction would be.

Snape turned back to the board, and began to write out the ingredients for their potion. Slowly, everyone returned to chopping their daisy roots, the Slytherins with obvious disappointment on their faces.

So, Snape was back to ignoring him, Harry thought gloomily. He had figured out that silence was a greater indication of Snape's anger than insults and sarcasm.

He lingered for just a moment after class, but Snape gave him no notice.

He managed to avoid running into Sirius until that evening. He might have been able to escape even longer, but McGonagall cornered him with a sign-up sheet for students who wished to remain at Hogwarts over the break. As he stalled for time, Harry felt a hand descend on his shoulder.

"I've been looking all over for you," Sirius said.

Harry gave him the best imitation of a smile he could manage.

Sirius waved McGonagall off.

"It's settled, he'll be coming with me," he said, then turned to Harry. "You're going to love it. I got us the perfect place. . ." his voice trailed off as his gaze fell on someone behind Harry.

"Personally," Snape said, "I think he would be much safer if he remained at Hogwarts."

"Who asked you?" Sirius snarled, his smile and cheerful voice vanishing.

"Maybe you should ask _him,_" Snape fixed his gaze on Harry.

Now they were both staring at him, and Harry stepped back involuntarily. He looked from one to the other, and realized that their anger was mounting with every moment that he stayed silent.

"Is everything alright?" Dumbledore asked, coming out of the staffroom.

Harry and Snape stayed silent. Sirius cleared his throat, and tried to regain some of the cheerful look he had worn earlier.

"We were just asking Harry where he wanted to spend his holidays. I was about to tell him all about my new home, when. . ."

"We discussed this," Dumbledore interrupted, giving him a hard look.

"And that's why we were asking him!" Sirius protested.

"Harry?" Dumbledore turned to him.

"I don't want to go with either of them," Harry told him.

Snape and Sirius glared at him. Dumbledore looked sympathetic.

Unfortunately, Harry realized too late, if he stayed at Hogwarts it would be the same as agreeing to stay with Snape, since Snape wasn't planning to leave the school over vacation. And if Harry didn't go with Sirius. . .

The Dursleys.

"I _hate_ you!" he blurted out, and ran from the entrance hall, leaving the three men staring after him in shock. 


	13. Necessity

Harry woke up with a start. Someone had shaken him roughly by the shoulders.

He groped for his glasses.

He nearly fell out of bed when he saw Snape standing by the stairs.

Snape. In Gryffindor Tower. In Harry's dormitory.

Harry glanced around the room and found that everyone was gone. He was alone with Snape.

"Get out of bed," Snape said, scowling at him from across the room.

"Why? What's going on?" Harry couldn't help asking, even as he jumped to obey. Whatever was happening, he was going to do what he was told until he had a good reason not to. Maybe the school was being evacuated, maybe Voldemort. . .

"Get dressed," Snape continued, ignoring his question.

Harry sighed angrily as he pulled on his robes and pocketed his wand. No one ever told him anything. They just expected him to follow orders blindly. And since it was Snape who was issuing those orders, that was all the more reason for him to want some answers.

"Follow me," Snape commanded and went down the stairs.

Harry glared at his back for a moment, but followed.

Snape led him through the common room, out into the corridor outside, down to the sixth floor, and into a maze of hallways. They met no one, and Harry quickly lost track of where they were. This part of Hogwarts was unfamiliar to him, and the castle was large enough to easily get lost in. They went down narrow staircases, dark corridors, and through empty rooms. He wondered if they would ever stop. His legs were aching as they went down yet another set of stairs.

They came out in the dungeons. He knew this because the ceiling was low, the passageway dark and winding, and the floor had turned from white marble to gray stone.

Snape led the way through twisting corridors, until they reached a larger, better lit hallway. On the left Harry could see a Slytherin banner on the wall, and guessed that they were somewhere near the Potions classrooms and Slytherin common room. But Snape had turned right, leading him away from the section of the dungeons Harry was familiar with.

Finally, they reached a set of double doors. Snape muttered a password and they swung open silently. He motioned for Harry to step inside.

Harry hesitated, but the look Snape gave him propelled him forward.

The room was pitch black. He turned back toward the door, where light was coming in from the hallway outside, but just then the door swung shut.

He could hear Snape moving around in the darkness, and in another minute a torch illuminated part of the room with its dim glow. Snape proceeded to light more torches, until the entire room was lit with a harsh yellowish light.

"Don't just stand there," Snape looked at him with annoyance, "sit down."

Harry looked around the room for a place to sit. The only chair belonged to the desk in the corner. There was a four poster bed on the other side of the room.

"On the couch," Snape pointed, glaring.

Harry noticed the couch for the first time, hidden by the shadows in the corner. He sat down, finding it hard and uncomfortable. He waited, but Snape had gone over to the desk and seemed to be looking at something intently. Harry craned his neck, trying to see what it was.

Snape looked up.

"Come here," he commanded.

Harry found himself looking down at an ornate frame, in the middle of which he could see the Great Hall as though through a window. It looked like everyone was having breakfast. He squinted, and could see four red blurs at one table that indicated Ron, George, Fred, and Ginny. The image was too small to see any details. He looked up at Snape in confusion.

"So? They're having breakfast. I should be down there. I'll miss my first class."

"I don't think you want to be there just now," Snape told him, smirking. He pointed his wand at the image in front of them, and it zoomed in on the staff table.

Harry looked, still not understanding. Dumbledore was sitting in the center, McGonagall and Flitwick on either side. . . Sirius. Where was Sirius? And why did the staff look so subdued, shell-shocked even, while the students chattered with unusual animation?

"Did something happen to. . ." Harry looked up at Snape, his eyes widening with sudden fear.

Snape snorted.

"Did something happen to Black?" he said in a mocking tone. "You'll wish something had."

"I don't understand!" Harry exclaimed, getting angry now. "You brought me here and you won't tell me what's going on! Either tell me or let me go!"

"I'm not keeping you here," Snape told him, smirking again. "You should be grateful. I warned you about Black's temper."

Snape flicked his wand over the glass and the image disappeared, leaving only a mirror in its place. Harry could see his own face, pale, and his disheveled hair. He tried to smooth it down. Snape looked at him with contempt, then moved away, leaving Harry staring in frustration at his own face.

Left with nothing else to do, Harry moved back over to the couch. He was angry with Snape for ignoring his questions, but something kept him from trying to leave the dungeon room.

Snape came over with a tray, and set it down on the couch beside Harry.

"Eat," he commanded in a voice that caused Harry to lose most of his appetite.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Harry asked after choking down a piece of toast.

Snape stared at him for a moment. Harry was afraid he would decide not to speak.

"Do you recall me telling you that Black was notorious for his outbursts?" he asked.

Harry nodded.

"He had one this morning, just before he left the school."

"He left?" Harry repeated, shocked.

"Pay attention!" Snape snarled at him, making Harry jump and nearly spill the glass of juice he was holding.

"I don't know what you. . . Oh," Harry suddenly understood. "Oh no."

Snape just stared at him without speaking.

"He told _everyone?"_ Harry asked incredulously. "How could he do that?"

"You are surprised?" Snape asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is the same person who, in a fit of anger, nearly made one of his best friends a murderer. The same one who broke into the Gryffindor common room carrying a knife. Who intended to kill Pettigrew right in front of you. The man just can't control himself."

Harry was unnerved by the bitterness in Snape's voice. Even more unnerving was the fact that no retorts came to mind.

"So," Snape continued, looking at him with narrowed eyes, "do you still wish you had made it to breakfast?"

Harry considered, and decided that he was very glad he had overslept, and that his relationship with Ron had deteriorated so much that Ron had left the dormitory without waking him.

"No," he answered.

Snape didn't say anything more, so they sat lost in their own thoughts, Harry staring at his empty juice glass and Snape staring blankly at the wall.

"What now?" Harry asked when he could stand the silence no longer.

Snape gave him a grudging look, and shrugged.

"That's why you brought me here," Harry demanded, "so we could sit here and hide?"

"No," Snape glared at him. "I brought you here to give you fair warning."

Another silence, while Harry mulled this over.

"Thank you."

Snape's only response resembled a growl.

"How long do you think we can stay here, before someone comes to find us?" Harry asked.

"Not long enough."

Snape's comment was punctuated by a knock at the door. With a frustrated sigh, he got up to answer.

His expression became even more antagonized when Lupin walked into the room.

"Severus," Lupin began, "I'm so sorry. . ."

The glare Snape gave him caused him to change the subject quickly.

"What will happen to your. . ." at this moment Lupin saw Harry on the couch, ". . . your work?"

"My work?" Snape's eyes narrowed. "It's over."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, leaving the couch. "Are you going to lose your job over this?"

"No," Snape explained reluctantly. "My work for Dumbledore."

"Spying?" Harry persisted.

Snape turned on him.

"No. Do you really think Voldemort would have accepted me back?" he demanded. "I was meeting with some of the Death Eaters, trying to see how strong Voldemort's hold on them was, if any of them had returned to him merely out of fear."

"Oh," Harry said.

He turned to Lupin, "Is Sirius really gone?"

"Yes, he is," Lupin confirmed. "I wouldn't expect him back. Professor Dumbledore was not happy."

"I'll bet," Snape scowled.

"Why did he do it?" Harry asked, some part of him still wanting a reasonable explanation.

Snape and Lupin exchanged a look, Lupin's expression pained and Snape's frustrated.

"Spite," Snape said at the same time as Lupin said, "Jealousy."

"Jealousy?" Snape repeated, a short, cold laugh escaping.

"His worst quality," Lupin said, shaking his head unhappily.

"Out of many," Snape added.

Harry shifted his eyes between the two of them.

"What are people saying, Professor Lupin?" he asked, aware even as the words left his lips that he didn't really want to hear the answer.

Lupin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"They're just. . . shocked. Some of them don't want to believe it. Sirius certainly turned things upside down."

"I can't stand it!" Harry exclaimed, in his frustration blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "They're all going to stare at me!"

"You should be used to that," Snape commented sarcastically.

Harry pinched his lips shut to keep from retorting. He didn't answer until the wave of anger passed.

"That was not my choice! I never wanted all that attention."

He looked at Lupin for support, but Lupin was looking at Snape rather than Harry. Harry followed his gaze back to Snape's face.

"And this is going to be a lot worse!" he continued, feeling a little out of control now. "Not only do I have to explain that you are my father, I have to explain why you don't want me!" Harry stomped his foot. "I can't stand it!" Another stomp. "I can't!"

"Control yourself!" Snape barked, making both Harry and Lupin jump.

"I do want you," he continued in a lower tone. "I offered to take you. Or have you forgotten?"

"Only to keep me from Sirius. Not because you really wanted me."

"Not true," Snape narrowed his eyes. "It was for your own good, but not the only reason."

"I don't believe you," Harry muttered suspiciously.

"Fine," Snape turned away from him and walked over to his desk. "Tea, Lupin?"

"Yes, thank you," Lupin left Harry's side as well.

Harry watched them as they sat down on the couch, leaving no room for him. Standing on the other side of the room he felt ignored and still angry.

He had every right to be angry! he told himself. His world had been turned upside down and they were just sitting there, drinking tea. And since when were Lupin and Snape best buddies? If Harry had anywhere to go just then, he would have stomped out of the room. But since he didn't, all he could do was stand there staring crossly at the pair on the couch.

"Pull up a chair," Snape finally said, exasperated.

Harry did so, trying to swallow his anger.

Sitting silently with the two men, it suddenly occurred to him that they were as lost as he was. Why had he assumed that they would have the answers? This situation was painful to others besides himself.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Snape shot him a critical glance, but seemed to accept it.

Lupin smiled weakly. "Will we just sit here until Dumbledore comes looking for us?"

"Likely," Snape said, sniffing irritatedly.

Harry sighed. He didn't think Dumbledore had any answers for them either.

They finished their tea, but continued to sit in silence.

They didn't have to wait long, there was a soft knock and the door opened, admitting Dumbledore.

"I'm happy to find you together," Dumbledore managed a smile. "I was afraid I would have to look all over the castle."

Silence met his words, but he continued.

"I realize the situation seems rather bleak at the moment," Dumbledore seemed to be looking at Harry as he said this, "but we must find a way to deal with it. You have two choices." He looked around at their guarded expressions. "You can face this together, or you can face it alone."

That was not the advice any of them were hoping for. Snape sniffed in defiance, while Harry just looked glum.

"Not the most extraordinary advice, I admit," Dumbledore spread his hands in a helpless gesture, "but the only advice I can give."

"My life is over," Harry moaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"Selfish brat," Snape hissed at him, "do you always assume everything is worse for you than anyone else?"

Harry raised his head and gave him a cold look.

"_You_ can glare people into silence. _You_ can take House points and give detentions with Filch. _You_ don't have to listen to people talking about you!" He panted, out of breath. "What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to tell my friends?"

No one answered him. They sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"I think we better go up now, or you will all miss your first class," Dumbledore's voice was gentle but firm.

They didn't move.

"Come," he said again, and went ahead of them out of the dungeon room.

Lupin got up, and slowly followed, pausing by the door to look back at Harry and Snape, still sitting mutely.

"Coming?"

"Yes," Snape nodded. "You go ahead."

They were alone now. They avoided looking at each other. A minute passed, then another, and finally Snape rose from the couch.

"Lets get this over with."

Harry looked at him. The cold, impassive mask was back on Snape's face. How Harry wished he could do that! To face everyone without blushing crimson, or flinching under their stares, or breaking out in cold sweat at the thought of answering their questions.

He got up reluctantly, and followed Snape to the door. Outside, the hallway lay, long and dim. He felt like a prisoner marching toward the firing squad.

They reached the Potions classroom. Harry glanced at Snape. Snape had a class to teach. Harry would have to walk the rest of the way alone. He paused by the door, not sure how he could go on.

He felt Snape's hand between his shoulder blades, giving him a push forward. He looked up.

"Together, right?" Snape reminded him. He met Harry's eyes, and for a second Harry imagined he saw something besides cold apathy in them.

"Together," he repeated, trying to smile at Snape, not quite managing a convincing one.

They reached the staircase. Just a few dozen steps now. He could already hear the noise upstairs as breakfast was ending in the Great Hall.

"Wait," he said suddenly.

Snape, who had gone ahead, stopped and turned around.

"Before I consent to living with you, there's one more thing that I need to know," Harry's words tumbled out.

Snape nodded, waiting.

"What did you do to Professor Figg?" Harry asked, unable to keep back the suspicious tone.

Snape stared at him. And then, to Harry's shock, he laughed.

"I assure you she is alive and well," he finally said. "I will tell you about it some other time."

He turned and ascended another step, but looked back when Harry didn't follow him.

"Come on," Snape said, and held out a hand.

Harry stared at it, taking a second to comprehend, then took it, and allowed Snape to pull him forward. Forward, toward the light, the voices, his friends and his foes, all the people he would have to face. . .

But not alone. 


End file.
